Note: this is part two of a three-part story. If you have not yet read “Part 1,” you may want to read it first …
Tears continue to stream down my cheeks as I ponder a vivid dream of playing on a very strange basketball court, profoundly showing me that the rules of the game have been changed – a dream showing me that I am no longer living in the same world in which I grew up, and that there is no going back. I do indeed feel alone, like a fish out of water.
Weeks later, as I prepare to continue writing about this difficult final week of March, I come across a profound quote in the book “Oneness”, channeled by Rasha. This quote is found in chapter nineteen, page 180, the third complete paragraph.
“There is simultaneous presence of every being at countless levels. And it is as natural as the flutter of an eyelid, to emerge with consciousness at the next lighter level of density, once the work has been achieved. One’s awareness of the transition may not be apparent until it becomes blatantly obvious that the rules of “the game” have been radically altered. Ultimately, one realizes that one is not now present in the same world as one once was.”
I love how the synchronicities of life seem to team up to share such beautiful messages in magical ways.
Pre-Ceremonial Chat
It is shortly before noon on Wednesday, March 28, 2012, when I arrive on Keith’s magical porch to assist in the setup for an afternoon ceremony.
“How are you doing today?” Keith casually asks.
Seconds later, I break down into tears as I explain my stuck-ness.
“You are further regressing into the anger and rebellion of your childhood,” Keith lovingly guides me. “This is something you have never fully processed … the rebellious part of you that wants to say F@ck you God, mom, dad, church, etc. … It was never allowed … you have never fully gone there.”
Soon, after I share this morning’s amazing dream, Keith further congratulates me on my progress, telling me that the part of my crown chakra that remains semi-connected is what brought that dream to me, along with all of the beautiful symbolism.
Numb Resistance
A large crowd gathers for the afternoon ceremony, peaking at around 28 people. When the glow meditation is over, Keith turns to chat briefly with me. I mention to him how I had again started to access the anger, rage, and rebellion of my child – but then I just slipped into a feeling of numbness and apathy.
“This would be the natural progression and reaction for a child … to just hit the futility and go numb,” Keith points out.
“I don’t know if I can do what I need to do with this large of a group,” I respond to Keith. “Perhaps I should schedule a private session.”
I really want to go deeper, but I am tired of publicly humiliating myself with intense displays of tearful processing. As I mention my hesitancy, Keith simply moves on to work with someone else. I again feel abandoned, but I also know that this is my creation. I put up a wall of numb resistance, and it is not Keith’s job to tear down that wall for me.
A Disconnected Blubbering Fool
As Keith works with the woman to my side, I recognize myself in the discussion. She too is an empath who was deeply shut down in childhood. Listening to her talk about her pain profoundly triggers my emotional walls, and I give myself permission to begin stepping into my own journey.
I make a small fist and lightly punch on a pillow, trying to be as discrete as possible. The rampant buried rage begins to surface with deep intensity – yet I continue to keep the externally visible emotion as low-key as possible, shedding a few exterior tears while feeling as if I am vomiting agonizing energy out of my throat. I focus on bringing in some light to assist me while at the same time struggling to remain as the unattached observer.
I feel so disconnected from the group energy – so like an alien who does not belong – a blubbering fool that does not want to connect with anyone, believing that no one wants to connect to me either. The emotion of agonizing isolation and separation is intense. I know it stems from childhood futility and disconnection.
As I continue to observe the group around me, I perceive that the whole porch seems to be a display of what I feel inside – a perfectly created stage play of how my life felt as a child. For all I know, the reality of others is probably very different, but in my self-created perceived reality, I see a shallow, disconnected group heavily focused on fixing energy. I do feel slightly less crazy when Keith, on two different occasions, feels guided to ask people to disengage from what he himself points out is a fixing energy.
A Disconnected Alien
I am not the least bit surprised when Keith eventually works with a woman across the porch. She too is feeling very disconnected from groups and from Higher Energies. As Keith begins to guide her into a deep subconscious meditation, he asks several people to physically disconnect from doing energy work on her, pointing out that their fixing energy, while well intentioned, is disempowering her process.
As this woman sinks down into her subconscious, she finds herself at around age three, feeling like an alien that was not understood. Everyone else around her is connecting and fitting in – but she does not fit. As an empath, she feels the pain of others’ emotions, causing her to push such connections away.
As I follow along in my own inner journey, deeply relating at an emotional level, I again begin to cry and blubber as another round of deep dry-heaves causes me to involuntarily force more energy out of my throat. I too am feeling the agonizing emotions of being a child alien, knowing that I do not now and will never fit in to this world into which I was born. The emotions are so profoundly strong that I feel attached to them, identified with the pain – deeply struggling to remind myself that I am merely regressing into my own childhood pain and that what I feel is not present day stuff.
Troublesome Magic
Soon, someone else on the porch starts to go into tears of vulnerability. I feel quite guilty when my internal “fraud alert” goes off, telling me that this person is into fake trauma-drama. Immediately, I recognize this as one of my biggest triggers beginning in childhood.
First off, because of my own intense emotional journey, I was probably accused of such fraudulent trauma-drama throughout my own childhood, slammed for my own tears even when I absolutely knew that my expressed pain was fully real and genuine. My own treatment taught me to judge and reject others who were equally emotional.
Second, when I perceived manipulative attention-getting behaviors in others – and then talked about it – I was scolded for my being judgmental, being told that there was no way I could possibly know what I claimed to know. I began to deeply doubt everything I felt and perceived, believing it to be evil.
Finally, I repressed and slammed myself for such perceptions, believing myself to be a stupid fraud, believing that if I genuinely perceived emotional sabotage in others, that I myself was a horrible judgmental jerk.
I have been given another deep glimpse into why I have shut down my magic – it always got me into trouble, and I hated myself for it.
Simply Sulking
After the ceremony ends at around 5:30 p.m., I step into Keith’s kitchen to give him a quick hug. As I wait for the opportunity to thank Keith, I overhear him tell someone else “What an amazing ceremony!”
“That is not my experience,” I tell Keith in private. “I had a very difficult and disconnected time today. My perception was that it was a very superficial, scamming, and shallow ceremony. There was a lot of touchy-feely fixing that kept people from exploring their real issues.”
I then express a few other concerns about behaviors I observed.
“I think you just need to keep talking about this,” Keith sternly brushes me away as he walks out of his kitchen to talk to someone else.
As I walk home, I feel depressed, alone, rejected and dejected. I avoid talking to others and simply sulk, wallowing in my rejection. I feel like I am living in a hated nightmare and that Keith is intentionally nourishing the existence of that horrifying dream.
“I cannot possibly be creating this reality,” I attempt to deny personal responsibility.
Yet at one level, I know that Keith is right. I do not know how to get out of my hole, out of needing to beat this dead horse when the horse continues to stink and rot – and no matter what I do, no matter how I try to talk about the issue, I just stink and rot more right along with the horse.
On the one hand, I know that all is OK, but another part of me wants to be angry.
I am tired of being slammed for trying to express genuine feelings and concerns, I am pissed and angry. I WANT to be upset. I CANNOT drop this and give up needing to be right. Why?????
A Rejected Gift
In retrospect, as I write about this nearly two months after the fact, I can clearly see that Keith was profoundly serving me in another role-play. It is blatantly obvious to me that my childhood feelings were recreated for me in this powerful ceremony – I felt like a disconnected alien living in a shallow and fixing world. Whenever I tried to express my concerns to others, I was slammed and judged and harshly rejected – only serving to further strengthen the nightmare in which I found myself.
As a tender-aged child, I believed that the only way to heal myself was to explain and defend my honor – my genuine intentions. Yet every time I tried to do so, I only dug the hole deeper, getting into even more trouble, being further slammed, judged, and rejected by the consensus reality.
Now, as an empowered adult, I realize that I was trying to fix the dream from within the dream. I was trying to change reality by seeing it as an “outside job”. As a tiny child, I did not have the understanding that everything is an “inside job”. I did not have the maturity to recognize and accept that “it is not about the other person … it is not about what it is about … and nothing changes until I do.”
As I regressed deeply into the childhood emotions on that painful last Wednesday afternoon in March, I was lost in the childhood pain, lost in the childhood behaviors, lost in the childhood way of dealing with things. I can clearly see that Keith gave me a profound gift that day – a gift that I rejected at the time – a gift showing me exactly how I felt when I tried to explain my genuine feelings to my parents. It was a gift showing me that by trying to solve the problem through talking about it, I only met impatient frustration and rejection from those who, in a child’s eyes, should have loved, supported, and understood my genuine and pure intentions.
Inner Education
As I ponder before bedtime on this painful Wednesday evening, I feel totally lost. I have an appointment for a private session with Keith tomorrow afternoon, yet I feel stupid for even considering going after the way our conversation ended earlier this evening. I feel like I ruined things, like I am responsible for Keith being angry with me, like I will never again be able to return to the healing friendship that I cherish so deeply.
“I want to do real work,” I ponder with genuine sincerity. “I want to stop my painful childhood loop … but I want validation too … I need to talk about this … I was never allowed to talk this way as a child … never given the validation I desperately wanted … always scolded and abandoned if I challenged authority and spoke my rebellious truth.”
“I know that the validation needs to come from within,” I ponder an inner truth. “But why can’t a teacher provide some validation too?”
Part of me knows that such validation will come … that right now I am deeply regressed in re-experiencing the childhood pain from a new level of perspective … and that I came to this place as a profound part of my inner education.
A New Perspective
I am so lost and frustrated that sleep seems impossible. Instead of even trying, I stay up and lose myself in two movies. Finally, at around 1:00 a.m. on Thursday morning, I go to bed, getting perhaps four hours of restless sleep.
When I again stare at the ceiling at around 5:00 a.m., I begin to ponder things from a new perspective. I clearly see that as a tiny child, I probably drove my parents crazy with my struggles, with my inability to fit into the world they lived in … with my inability to function and understand life as it was being taught to me. I recognize that my parents probably struggled profoundly with not knowing how to help me, not being able to get me to stop crying and resisting etc…
“What I am struggling with is probably quite difficult for Keith to deal with as well,” I begin to ponder. “When I am regressed into that childhood state, he probably feels like my parents, wanting to pull his hair out while trying to figure out how to help someone like me who is so stuck in my confusing childhood world.”
“Keith is probably projecting his own issues onto me too,” I further ponder. “He is human just like I am. I need to respect that he cannot be God for me … that he cannot play that role of perfection … of supporting and holding me up through every struggle. He is doing a wonderful job of helping me, but my struggles are probably extremely frustrating to him.”
“I have tried to use him as a psychological sounding board for all of my projections,” I ponder. “But what I have not considered is that my projections are most likely triggering him in some deep way as well. If he acts frustrated with me, he is probably feeling the same frustration that my parents felt, being taken on his own healing journey while deeply attempting to remain present to help me.”
No Hope Now
After a morning of computer games and emotional avoidance, I manage to establish a short-duration Skype connection to a dear friend back in Utah. In the beautiful conversation, my friend deeply connects to my pain and then channels some wisdom to me.
“This is teenage pain that you have to feel and release,” Michelle tells me. “You will not like to hear this, but it will take another day or two before you have a major ‘aha’ that makes it all make sense. This is important healing that you need to go through for a purpose.”
As Michelle hugs me through the phone, she encourages me to cry and sob and vomit out the energy – and this is exactly what I do, mostly in uncontrollable coughs, tears, and dry heaves. The release is excruciatingly painful.
“I just don’t want to go on,” I explain to Michelle through blubbering sobs. “I am a loser and have messed up my life one too many times. I am not suicidal, but I feel as if my life is over, like there is no hope for me now … no point in continuing to even try.”
As she feels my pain, Michelle also begins to cry.
“Please, do not take my pain into you,” I beg my dear friend. “Please, please, please do not take it in.”
As these intense teenage emotions of absolute and utter futility run through me, I am experiencing my teenage social crisis in its full intensity.
“Wow,” I exclaim to Michelle, “as I feel these emotions flow, I recognize and remember them. I had forgotten how excruciatingly hopeless I had felt during those agonizing years as a dysfunctional gender-struggling teenager.”
Deep Gratitude
To my dismay, my internet connection deteriorates and then dies in the middle of this conversation.
“I guess we are not supposed to talk anymore,” I barely make out the final words from my dear friend.
After a couple of hours having no internet at all, I finally receive a beautiful email from my dear friend and “adopted” sister. I know she will be OK if I share portions publicly. Her words are so beautiful, so profound, that even now, nearly eight weeks later as I transcribe them here, they bring deep emotional loving tears to my eyes. Following are her words – words that I know are channeled. The punctuation and emphasis are hers.
“You are one of the most inspirational people in the world. […] You need to take care of the two-through-teen inside of YOU!!! That’s right, inside there is a young girl just wanting to be free. Live for her. The dreams and hopes. No guilt no shame. Just total fun and whatever comes up. For that lost little boy, hold him, hug him, dance with him. Tell him all the wonderful things she, you, have become. Thank him for surviving. Show the young man that all the struggles were very painful. Cry with him, thank him for holding on. Then all of you, two to teen to now, all the girl, that was hidden in a disguise, rejoice, rebound, claim your right to be. Claim your right to evolve and triumph over suppression. Let out all the old anger and hurt. Cry till you cannot cry any more. Do what you need to do. […] May your Higher Beings be with you at this difficult time. I ask the Universe to give you love, understanding, and most of all peace and assurance. You are. And therefore you shall be. A great wisdom will arise from all of this. I promise you that all will be OK very soon. Keep your beautiful self safe and in a higher place. […]”
My heart swells with gratitude for such a deeply loving and inspired friend.
Journey With Fixing
After running a few errands, I retire to my bed to meditate, sulk, ponder, explore, and observe myself – killing time until my 2:00 p.m. private session with Keith.
“I’m sorry for projecting my God drama so strongly onto you,” I immediately apologize to Keith at the beginning of our time together.
“Where are you at?” Keith asks me to fill him in on my journey.
“I wish I knew,” I respond with confusion, “I wish I could explain the craziness I feel.”
“Find a basket in front of you,” Keith guides me into meditation after I fill him in on my journey.
“I feel like I am just making it up,” I answer hesitatingly, “but the first thing that comes to mind is a screwdriver.”
“So what is this trying to tell you about your journey with fixing energy?” Keith queries.
“I have a journey both with wanting to be fixed by God, and with trying to fix myself and others,” I respond after a few minutes of deep soul searching.
Filter Feelings
“Bask to the basket,” Keith quickly guides me. “What is in there now?”
“A window screen or filter screen is what comes to me,” I respond with more hesitation. “It is not a visual, just a very strong feeling.”
“What does that tell you,” Keith continues guiding.
“Well, a filter is used to let pure things through and to keep out all of the impure,” I begin sharing feelings after a few minutes. “A screen lets air through, but keeps out the bugs. A filter lets water through but keeps out the dirt, bacteria, and viruses etc…”
“How does that relate to your journey?” Keith probes deeper.
I repeatedly come up with several lame answers, but after each, I respond that I feel as if I am just making this up, scamming myself with left-brained thinking.
“I am trying to filter out the pain and fixing,” I eventually respond. “But when I do that, it also keeps out the love.”
“Maybe the filter is the other way around,” Keith suggests another possibility. “Maybe it is trying to filter stuff from leaving you.”
I do not quite understand what Keith is saying. As I ponder, however, I begin to feel that this filter is plugged, possibly from emotional densities such as the intense anger and rage that I am carrying from teen years … keeping my power from getting out to my heart.
Back To The Basket
“As I often do,” I share with Keith, “I am experiencing lots of doubt … but I am not going to buy into the doubt … I am not going to believe that I cannot meditate in this way. I have done this so many times before and I can do it again.”
Still, however, I feel as if I am grasping at straws, making things up while still trusting that all this is taking me somewhere. As I continue to meditate, I begin to feel some pleasant energy flow in my crown and third-eye regions.
“Back to the basket,” Keith soon guides me.
“This time I find a tangled ball of fishing line,” I soon respond with the first thing that pops into my imagination. “It is hopelessly tangled and beyond fixing. There is so much emotional density … so many tangled webs of hatred and social dysfunction etc … that I will never clean it up, never untangle it all … it is a futile task.”
“Back to the basket,” Keith again tells me to close my eyes. “What is there now?”
“What pops into my mind is a hose,” I soon respond. “It is not a garden hose, but is a smaller clear plastic hose. It makes no sense.”
“I’m getting that it has to do with a channel for energies,” I add a minute or two later.
An Abandoning Delay
I meditate on this for a while. Soon, a little boy comes to Keith’s gate wanting to change some money. Keith often gets several such interruptions on a daily basis. He has created a fun second job for himself, being the moneychanger for little boys that are given US and Mexican money by the tourists. These little boys hang out by the boat docks and in the center of town, helping tourists find their way, receiving tips of varying currencies in return. Then another man stops by to purchase chocolate. Rather than judge such interruptions as rude, I have learned to recognize them as part of my process and take advantage of this opportunity to meditate even deeper.
As I meditate alone, I figure out that the hose represents my channel of life-force energy, perceived as sexual energy when trapped in the second chakra. I recognize that this hose has been clogged, pinched, and tightly clenched since my gender struggles began at around age eleven – a painful journey of self-hatred resulting in struggle, guilt, shame, and self-loathing.
Finally, after yet-another ten-minute delay – having been left alone for nearly a half hour – I have an opportunity to share my insights with Keith.
“I’m realizing from the long delay that I am extremely angry at God for how I felt abandoned as a youth,” I share profound insights. “I begged God for help, plead for him to FIX me, but never received what I asked for. I did absolutely everything possible to fix myself, but failed miserably, getting myself into horrible social dysfunction because of that life-force and my attempted shutdown of it all. All the while, I felt completely ignored by God … abandoned as if God did not care. I believed I was working harder than most everyone around me … and that I deserved to be helped … but I repeatedly watched as others seemed to flourish while I failed miserably.”
Beating Around The Barn
“Go deeper Brenda,” Keith does not let me stop here.
I attempt several metaphors to help me go deeper, but none of them seems to work. As I imagine myself walking down steps, I feel as if I am simply walking in place, not descending at all.
“This is showing you the intense fear and resistance that you are now bumping into,” Keith shares his guidance.
I again try to descend, but fail to move. I refuse to listen to my doubts. I refuse to buy into them. Gradually, as I ignore the doubts and feelings that I am not moving, I simply fake-it, ignoring the inner resistance. As I engage in this inner journey, stepping ever deeper, I begin to talk out loud about the various things that pop into my mind.
Out of nowhere, Keith begins to respond to my comments using the metaphor of a barn.
“That is on the outside of the barn,” Keith tells me after I repeatedly make such comments, many of which come with deep emotion.
I repeatedly share more and more insights. To each, Keith’s response is “that is still on the outside of the barn.”
I talk about my self-hatred, my self-judgment, and my anger at feeling abandoned by God.
“That is one of the puzzle pieces, but it is still outside the barn,” Keith frustrates me.
I talk about having to hide underneath fake costumes, my resistance to love, fear of love controlling me … all obvious stuff … but the response is still that I am walking around the barn.
A Puzzling Journey
“Back to the basket,” Keith again guides me. “What is in it?”
“A knife,” I soon respond. “I used it to sever my energy connections … my connection to divine source energy.”
“Another puzzle piece,” Keith responds, “still outside the barn.”
This goes on for nearly an hour as I repeatedly beat around the bush without coming up with an answer to satisfy Keith.
“Do you have something you see that I do not?” I beg Keith go give me a clue on what he is looking for.
“I see something there,” Keith responds, “and much of what you have found are pieces of the puzzle that need to be put together.”
Finally, Isaias brings a large bundle of bananas up to Keith’s porch. They are from Keith’s lower property, and need to be hung up on the porch to keep them safe from the birds while they ripen. I pay very close attention to the interruption and to the metaphors involved.
A Rigged Game
“I feel like God left me hung out to dry,” I express with angry emotion when the twenty-minute interruption is over. “I tried and tried and deserved help … but I never received it.”
“That is one of the doors of the barn,” Keith responds, indicating that I am getting warmer.
As I hit several more deep issues, Keith again occasionally tells me that I have found another door … but I am still not inside … I still need to go deeper.
“I am feeling cheated,” I express deep feelings to Keith, “I feel righteous indignation at God for rigging the game, for making it impossible to use my mind to explain how to bring in love, etc.”
“Now you’re inside the barn,” Keith smiles at me.
Keith reminds me of a metaphor I have once used … one where several classmates in my Master’s program took us on an experiential exercise where we were blindfolded and told to find the end of a rope. It soon became obvious that the rope was circular and that there was no end. But in my refusal to admit that the game was rigged, I had gone around that looped course repeatedly for over a half hour, trying to figure out the riddle with my head. In the end, when I finally succumbed to frustration and asked for help, I was told that I was done … that all I needed to do was to ask for help. I was fuming inside at how stupid that course had been … at how stupid it is to create a game that cannot be solved.
“But I HAVE been begging God for help,” I respond to Keith’s reminder, “and I still feel stuck and frustrated by what feels like a rigged game.”
Inside The Barn
Keith and I continue this exercise in what feels like an endless journey. I finally come up with several more answers that Keith also confirms are “inside the barn”. Following are several of those answers.
“If I was not confused and pathetic enough, I would not get help.”
“If I was strong and self-sufficient, I would not get any help.”
“The game is rigged. It does not matter what I do, whether I am needy or strong, I cannot win. I cannot get the help I need.”
“I am at the bottom of that five-meter wall of glass. I have done everything I can and am still stuck.”
By now, it is obvious to me that what is “inside the barn” are all of the core issues surrounding my God/Deity/Separation drama. Soon, we end the barn metaphor and turn to a deep discussion regarding the God Drama itself.
Digging Deeper
“I was trained to not trust myself with anything creative,” I share with Keith. “When I was expected to give a talk in church or to write a paper for school – whether as an older child or as a teen – I demanded assistance from my mother (representing God), throwing a tantrum, and insisting that I could not do it by myself. I absolutely knew that I would be criticized and subsequently devastated if I did it by myself. If someone did not like my creative work, even in a minor way, I would be depressed and deflated.”
“That is inside the barn,” Keith congratulates me.
“I recognize that I am subconsciously doing the same thing with you,” I continue sharing with Keith,” Even after already having learned the answers, I constantly forget them and beg for help every time that I need it – refusing to do it by myself because I might do it wrong. I should not have to do it by myself. I have done all of my own work. I did it beyond expectations. I deserve help from God.”
“Inside the barn,” Keith smiles.
“Go deeper still,” Keith encourages me.
For at least an hour, we deeply explore the God drama together. I wish I had a recording device, because I want to remember everything. It seems that my old patterns of confusion and chaos are still with me, desperately attempting to sabotage my memory, doing all the usual tricks to keep me stuck in the game.
Enabling Panic
“So I just need to fully understand all aspects of the crazy game I am playing with God, and then stop playing out those games?” I do my best to summarize what Keith has repeatedly told me is the ultimate way to undo my drama with God.
“Basically,” Keith responds, “but I’m getting that you will have a few more emotional issues come up in that process as well.”
“A subconscious part of me insists that God helps everyone else but abandons and scorns me,” I share another God-drama insight with Keith. “This part of me is pissed and angry about this, saying I shouldn’t have to do it myself, that I have already done my part, that I want my energy openings now, that I am angry and jealous to see how others seem to open up so easily. I want my own magic to open up … in the way I want it to open.”
Keith quickly reminds me that my own tedious path of learning much of this the hard way is preparing me as a healer, helping me to have the inner license … the “been there, done that, got the T-shirt” credentials.
“I am no longer enabling your forgetting what you already know by answering repeated questions that I have answered time and time again,” Keith then shares with me.
“But a loving God would always give me the answer, no matter how much I forget and have to ask again,” I insist.
“No,” Keith points out. “That would be enabling, allowing you to keep depending on assistance from others, when you need to do your own work.”
I feel a sense of frightened panic as these words leave Keith’s mouth … as if my mother told me she is no longer going to help me with school papers or church talks. Ouch … kind of frightening to the inner liar that still does not fully trust my right-brained creativity.
Undoing The Blocks
As I listen to Keith’s firm words, a new round of panic and God-drama anger swells in my soul. I feel a new surge of anger toward traditional religion – towards the teachings that drilled separation and duality into my logical mind – teaching me that “God is out there”, a separate being that will only reward me if I am good and obedient to the rules.
This “out there” mentality has me so stuck in old conditioned logical ways. It seems so difficult to take responsibility, to remember that God is inside, that it is all an inside job and that we each have our own unique journey that no one else can make for us.
My anger then shifts to all the unsolvable riddles that “God” puts out there – riddles that cannot be solved with logic. And then there are those who claim to have solved the riddles that give out trite answers that infuriate my stuck logical mind – making it sound so easy to just surrender, to be present, and to bring in love, etc… I totally believe all of these statements to be true, but the conditioning from childhood that was drilled into me in the name of a separate God has tied my mind up in so many knots that the tangled blob of fishing line seems impossible to unravel.
This part of me feels damn angry at God for this rigged and impossible game.
I know it is about “undoing the blocks to loves presence” … but how … how do I DO that? I feel like such a stupid and incapable loser.
Cookie Craving
Keith and I talk and talk and talk. I realize that every time I have felt angry at Keith and threatened to pack my bags and leave San Marcos – every time was my God Drama surfacing – a drama saying “If I can’t get the help in the way I want it, then I’m not playing the game.”
“I am tired of doing all my deep and painful inner work,” another voice pipes in. “I want to receive my validation and reward for what I am doing or I won’t keep going. It makes me really angry to see others opening up in increasingly magical ways while I continue to struggle, blah, blah, blah.”
“It is too much work … too hard … it shouldn’t be so hard,” the scamming voices continue. “God needs to take more control, to teach people what is right, to quit leaving them to struggle with figuring it out for themselves, to quit allowing negative people to interfere …”
“I want my cookies!” the inner liar screams out. “I want my rewards for all the hard work I have done.”
How I wish I could remember all of the crazy games-I-play that Keith and I discuss calmly and frankly. It is becoming increasingly clear as to why I am the one who refuses to allow God to assist me – it is not the other way around.
And as many spiritual teachers point out, I am afraid of the responsibility of having the light … of losing control of my life if I am connected and powerful … of being burdened with everyone else’s problems.
Refusal To Cooperate
Keith soon points out another complication in my process – that I have life-force confused with sex and self-hatred, guilt, shame, and dysfunction – and that I have all of that equally hooked with my teenage struggles of being a social idiot, a misfit, and a reject.
“So I have God and Higher Energy hooked with absolute social disaster,” I reiterate the insights to Keith. “No wonder being a leader in a group has always terrified me so much.”
“Technically these are separate issues,” Keith quickly points out. “They are related to the God Drama … but not the God Drama itself.”
“Right now, Brenda,” Keith guides me, “you need to work on undoing the God Drama.”
“I have never grasped the concepts of the God Drama like I do now,” I explain to Keith. “You often talk so abstractly about it that I have never understood until we went into the details today.”
“You either did not want to understand, or you were not ready to understand this before,” Keith responds. “Now you are. You have been playing it out very intensely lately. It is now time to go into it.”
“It is the trauma-drama you play out with deity that prevents you from allowing assistance from the light and deeper connection with God,” Keith points out with clarity. “It is why you are so angry at God and will not cooperate with Higher Energies until you get what you want first.”
Personal Projections
Keith and I continue talking for a long time, with our conversation turning to more generic matters. I find great closure in realizing that I am not crazy, and that Keith agrees with my various perceptions about situations on the porch, including those that took place yesterday. He has been consciously allowing the things that annoy me because they serve a higher purpose to me and others.
“I am so deeply grateful for how much patience you have with me,” I express to Keith. “Thank you so much for not getting angry when I project all over you and others on the porch.”
“It took me over three years to understand what a feeling is,” Keith reassures me that he knows how it feels to be stuck in his own way.
“I don’t take things personally,” Keith continues. “I know that when you project onto me, that it is not about me.”
“And you are probably not done projecting onto me,” Keith further stirs the pot.
“Oh, please don’t say that,” I cringe at the thought. “I want so badly to be done.
“Remember that when you near the end of a process, that you often get that ‘wham wham wham’ to help you finish up all the loose ends,” Keith reminds me. “You will have more opportunities to go there until you are done.”
Not Tonight
“Most people on the porch probably think I am a crazy bitch,” I smile, recognizing how dysfunctional I have sometimes been recently.
“Brenda,” Keith again reminds me. “Most of them do not even understand what a core issue is, let alone go into it.”
“That is amazing,” I respond eagerly, “I was just about to point out to you that one of the most helpful feedbacks you ever gave me was to point out that I am going into repeated core issues, and that most of the others have never done so. I am doing very deep inner work and I can hold my head high without beating myself up as a crazy loony bitch.”
As I give Keith a huge genuine hug, it feels very sincere for the first time in a few days. I repeatedly thank Keith over and over for his profound patience in helping me through such crazy-making core issues.
“I know I am not done,” I call out to Keith as I walk up the steep road by his home, “but I am so much more stable now, and I am so grateful!”
As I prepare for bed on Thursday evening, I feel stable, but tired and exhausted. It is quite clear to me that putrid emotions continue to rot inside … but another thought calls out with equal clarity, clearly insisting “but I don’t need to worry about them tonight”.
Center Stage
These last six days have been intense, and are far from over. Pain and projections brought with them the beginning clues to the fact that my God Drama was up, center stage. But I had no idea just how bright and intense the stage lights would be – and I am the star of the show. No one else can do it for me.
A beautiful dream – a dream about a confusing, rule-breaking basketball game – set the stage for recognizing that the carpet of the world I once knew has indeed been yanked out from under me. I love the “Oneness” quote that clearly confirms that as one heals and shifts, that it becomes increasingly clear that “the rules of the game have been radically altered”.
With skill, Keith guides me in meditation after meditation with baskets and barns, coaxing me to go ever deeper. Finally, it becomes intensely clear. There is no more hiding from that center-stage spotlight. It is time to perform – time to own the dysfunctional games I continue to project – the games I play out with Higher Energies and Deity.
Yes, the pain in my life has been agonizing, dragging me to the depths of hopelessness and futility at times – and yes, I designed the stage, and I skillfully cast the leading actors prior to my own birth – but it is now time to own the script as being my own. If I can do that … if I can wake up to the fact that I am the scriptwriter and not the victim of some ruthless and unjust God, just maybe I can make it through these ever deepening core issues.
After catching a few zzzz’s, I hope to continue the journey … a journey that is far from complete.
… to be continued …
Copyright © 2012 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved